


you're running after something that you'll never kill

by ElasticElla



Series: the serial killer ryan quartet [4]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood and Gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 23:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13867815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: They’ve been living in Maldives for over a month when it happens. A creak wakes Ryan up, and he swears there’s someone else in the room besides him- can hearbreathing.





	you're running after something that you'll never kill

**Author's Note:**

> the end, holy shit it isn't gonna be another unfinshed series by moi, lmao shoutout to nini whose comment on the first fic made me consider expanding the universe & to kaitlyn, the best of the best, babe this fic wouldn't exist without you <3
> 
> this one's significantly darker than the previous three so yeah. i've never had a fic dead dove worthy, so hey new things
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](http://lesbiancleophas.tumblr.com)

They’ve been living in Maldives for over a month when it happens. Only a week away from moving to their new private island, are signing the papers once the realtor is back in Malé- already have a hefty deposit down. (Most of the deposit is to smooth the way for their citizenship papers, and Ryan’s never been so pleased with corruption before- it’s damn quick when you’re being benefited.) 

A creak wakes Ryan up, and he swears there’s someone else in the room besides him- can hear _breathing_. 

“Shane, fuck fuck- Shane wake up!”

“Not real,” Shane yawns, “go back to sleep.” 

There’s the sound of a doorknob, and Ryan wacks his shoulder. “ _Shane_.” 

Grumbling, he sits up, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table. “Alright, I’m listening.” 

Their door hasn’t moved at all, but it sounded so very close. Ryan’s completely still for a while, ears pricked, but no other inexplicable sounds emerge. Shane stays up with him for a bit, much more relaxed and rubbing his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles. 

“You ready to go back to sleep?” Shane asks. 

Ryan wants to go sit out on the balcony, the sun rise is only so many hours away, but he knows it’s a bad idea. It’ll mean freaking himself out all night with sounds that he won’t know for sure what they are and- ugh. Tomorrow he’s getting an audio recorder, should have brought them over dress shoes.

“Yeah, thanks babe.” 

.

Unsurprisingly Ryan gets very little sleep through the rest of the night. But given how overly comfortable the bed is, and how warm Shane is around him, he doesn’t mind as much as he normally would. 

Once it’s a respectable hour- the sun long up, and Shane’s snores have long gone from cute to too loud- Ryan gets up. He wants to question Mariyam about the possible haunting alone; Shane’s disbelief has a way of infecting others. 

After dressing, he leaves a note on the hotel stationary and sneaks out quietly, heading down to the lobby. The building itself feels haunted this early: lights out, curtains flickering, the only noises distant. Just to be safe, Ryan takes the stairs. (Better exercise than the elevator anyways.)

There’s a family checking out in the lobby with waffle station girl- he should really know her name by now. But Mariyam’s at the other end, and Ryan goes to her. 

“Good morning, how can I help you?” she asks.

“Yeah, I was wondering if you know any history of the building?”

“Well, there isn’t much of it. Construction completed eighteen years ago, in 2000. Do you have a more specific inquiry?” 

“Heh, yeah,” Ryan says, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Have there been any odd reports from my room?” 

Her eyebrows come together, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Is something not to your liking?” 

“No, no! Everything’s fine I just- you see- I think there might be a ghost.” 

Her smile doesn’t change, but her eyes do and dang it- another skeptic. 

“Is there anywhere around here I could get an audio recorder?”

“Ahmed has a store at the end of main street, I can order you some this morning?” Mariyam offers. 

Ryan recalls the two days it took to get the voltage converter- nothing like xbox in paradise- and shakes his head. “I’d like the walk- thank you!” 

.

The walk is indeed very nice. Eight in the morning on Vili-Malé means most of the people that are awake are either on the beach or setting up shop. The destination is unfortunately lacking, and Ahmed orders one from another island- which means no recording equipment for another night. 

Walking back to the hotel, a bouquet catches his eye- a mix of white flowers with yellow centers and pink with orange. It feels tropical and fresh, beautiful in an almost fake way.

“Temple flowers,” a voice informs him, and he turns to see a kid helping set up shop. “Frangipani,” they pronounce slowly for his benefit. “For connecting with the spirits, forty dollars.” 

“Ai!” The woman yells, and the kid scrambles away giggling. “He jokes,” she assures him. “They mean intense love, thirty.” 

He gives her forty anyways, gets them retied with a nice thick silver ribbon. Usually Shane does the romantic gestures, had been the one that insisted they rob the jewelry store back in LA. 

Today’s his turn though, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the bar on his way up. Some bubbly on the balcony sounds like a delightful way to start the day, and maybe they’d get some pancakes sent up too. 

“Honey, I’m-”

Ryan shuts the door quickly, speechless at the scene on their bed. 

There’s a woman tied to the headboard, arms extended to each corner, and her legs tied and folded beneath her. Her mouth is overflowing with cotton, so full no sounds can emerge. Most dramatically though, are the two bloody sockets where her eyes once were. 

“What the _fuck_.” 

Shane grins at him, “I found your ghostie! Mariyam here is a very naughty girl, she was trying to steal from us.” 

“You’re supposed to cut off hands for that dumbass,” Ryan says, fuck hadn’t even recognized her. 

“Hands, eyes, whatever. Baby, you got me flowers?” Shane says, taking them with a kiss. He places them on the far side table, and from the end of the bed it makes a set: glass butterfly, Mariyam, flowers. There’s a bag of spilled diamonds by the flowers, and ah- that would be her attempted theft. Their suitcases are already repacked with everything else, and Ryan can’t process that right now. He sets the champagne down, wiping the condensation on his pants. 

“What happened to steal from the rich?” Ryan asks. 

“Yeah not us,” Shane says with a snort. 

The full implications hit him slow- he blames it on the early hour and how long it’s been. But fury rises in him, burns in his cheeks.

“We had a good life here, what the hell were you thinking?” 

“Baby, we both know it wasn’t gonna last-”

“Wasn’t gonna last?” Ryan echoes with a desperate laugh. “We have a deposit down on an island that literally has perfect weather year round.”

“Look I’m sorry,” Shane says, looping his arms around him. “I should have stalled her so you could have decided with me. But I _know_ the way you’ve been wanting it Ry.” 

“I wanted us happy and safe and free on an island together. How many times do I have to pick you before you get that?” 

Shane looks down, bites his lip. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t- it’s, it’s okay. We’ll figure something out, we always do,” Ryan says. 

“Too late for her,” Shane says. 

“I know.” 

Shane places a knife in Ryan’s hand, guiding him to the bed like he hasn’t done this a dozen more times than Shane. 

Ryan sighs, drawing the first cut over her shoulder, “I liked her.” 

Her blood slowly dribbles down her front, staining the orange wrap dress. She almost matches the flowers, and Ryan waits to make the second cut until the first has stopped dripping. And then the third and the fourth and the fifth and Ryan stops counting. Keeps cutting until there’s a lattice of slices all along her clavicle. 

It feels different this time, maybe because the others he chose, actively wanted them dead. Or perhaps it’s different since he cut into Shane, started thinking more about the beauty and less the destination. Death is a journey and all that jazz. 

Shane finally joins him on the bed, a warm kiss to his jaw mirroring where the knife cuts into Mariyam. It fucks with his senses, makes his dick twitch and hand ache to plunge forward. 

“Finish it,” he whispers, an echo of their first time.

But it isn’t.

“No,” Ryan says. “She’s going to suffer.”

His dream for their future is ruined- and he isn’t going to take it out on Shane. He almost wants to take her gag out- to hear her scream, beg, sob. He never got the appeal before. 

Shane groans into his neck, beard scratching him, “ _Fuck_. Yeah, okay.” 

Ryan slices her sternum next to test it- her chest shaking and desperately trying not to breathe as she causes the knife to go deeper. That her lungs still move isn’t surprising, but feels remarkable with how she looks. Her face is unrecognizable with the pair of sunken bloody holes, and the top of her torso has more dress than skin covering it. 

Shane mimics the action, sliding back to kiss down his spine. 

Ryan keeps going, cutting the dress open with skin, and Shane’s hands come around to undo his buttons. 

“She took your island babe,” Shane whispers, and Ryan stabs her pinned wrist. Shane sucks a bitey kiss on his wrist, a faint imprint that’ll last longer than her. Ryan rips the knife out with a twist, Mariyam’s head falling forwards as her blood spills faster, a thin stream staining the dark headboard. 

“She tried flirting with me,” he says, and Ryan snaps. He’s been enjoying carving her relatively slowly- before such things were always only a test for himself, now it’s out of pleasure. 

He slices her other arm too deep, blood pouring freely. Shane follows the line in wet kisses, arousal and anger blending. He cuts the rest of her dress off, Shane tugging his pants off, a satisfied hum when he discovers the lack of underwear. 

Ryan slips the knife under her bra, cuts from one nipple to the other as Shane’s feather-light touches tease his own. Shane scoots closer, practically plastered over him, a huge wave of heat. His jeans are rough against his ass, a tantalizing reminder of the image they all must make: Mariyam half-dead, half-clothed and bleeding out, himself naked and bloodstained, and Shane the only one fully dressed or clean. 

He cuts a slow line down her belly, wants to feel Shane’s hand on his. Keeps pressing down through her underwear, doesn’t even care if this is one of Shane’s games to make him cross a new boundary. Doesn’t care about anything except for Shane mirroring the knife, and sure enough his warm hand slides down onto his dick. 

He _needs_ movement, stabbing the knife forward, making Shane’s hand rock up. He plunges the knife in and out of her mons, a twisted parody of sex, and Shane’s hand keeps rhythm perfectly. 

Ryan groans, eyes falling shut, movements becoming jerky. “Fuck, Shane please.” 

It’s too much and not enough, and Shane knows, takes that moment to murmur in his ear, “Be quiet Ry. Can you hear her heartbeat? Her wet breathing, her blood soaked last breaths?” 

He can’t. His own heartbeat is thudding too loudly in his ears, in his cock. 

Ryan wants to laugh at his words, can only manage a breathy wheeze with Shane’s hand so tight on him. “She just passed out.” 

“Oh,” Shane says, oddly disappointed sounding. 

“What?” Ryan asks.

“It’s stupid,” Shane says, his grip relaxing. 

Ryan pulls the knife out, twisting his torso to meet Shane’s eyes. “Tell me.” 

There’s a high flush in his cheeks as he drops him, and Ryan’s curiosity only grows. “I uh, I liked the idea of getting you off while you made the killing blow.” 

Ryan wriggles his eyebrows, “You’re welcome to blow me while I finish.” 

Shane chuckles like he hopes, and Ryan actually turns around, his back beginning to ache. 

“It’s weird,” Shane confesses. 

Ryan barks out a laugh, “We haven’t been normal for some time now. Little late there big guy.” 

“I know, it’s just- more y’know? Her alive. Saying what you want rather than letting it happen.” 

He cups his cheek, fingers stroking along the short beard, “Yeah. Now, do you wanna fuck me while I kill her or sit back and watch?” 

Ryan’s never seen Shane get rid of his clothes so fast, definitely popped a few buttons on his hawaiian shirt. 

He turns back to Mariyam, a little amazed her body’s still holding on. He brings the knife up to her bloody left shoulder- will definitely kill her too fast if he keeps stabbing her groin area. (It also turns his stomach to think about, if not do, in an odd way he’ll have to consider later.) 

Blade against her skin, Shane’s forefinger presses against his hole, waiting. He wonders what Shane would do if he sat down on his finger, if he simply took what he wanted. He wonders who could out-wait the other. (Immaterial: Mariyam is hanging on too thinly to life for such a game now.) 

Pressing into her slow, Shane does as well, Ryan’s mind spinning. There’s something electric about the not-quite control, about Shane’s movements being dictated by Ryan’s increasingly hard to control knife. (He’s never been a good multitasker, Shane knows this, the fucker.)

At first his stabs are too shallow, then the fingering is too slow, the cuts too deep- there’s no indirectly matching what his body needs. Dizzy frustration and lust combine until he doesn’t give a fuck. He slams the knife into her shoulder, hilt deep, two of Shane’s fingers echoing a beat later, and twists. 

Her head jerks, ah- back to consciousness for the finale. 

Shane twists his fingers deep inside, Ryan’s vision blinking out for stars to shoot across. He rips the knife out, blood spurting onto his chest- hysterical that she has the blood or the blood pressure for it. Shane’s fingers come out, leaving him acutely empty. 

Ryan drops the knife, and Shane’s only confused for half a moment as Ryan brings his first finger up to the cut. He gets it then with a sharp intake of breath, shoving his pants and boxers down quick, lining up his dick. There’s the snick of the lube bottle, Shane’s knuckles brushing over his ass as he touches himself, and he can’t wait any longer.

Ryan pushes his finger in as Shane’s cock presses in, takes nearly more control than he has not to push Shane back and ride him. He slides his finger in deeper, all slippery muscle and blood and then bone. There’s no way she’s still conscious, her heartbeat fainter than ever. She feels like dead flesh, more than looks the part. He adds another finger to thrust in and out, Shane echoing heavily. 

“Feel so good baby,” Shane says into his neck, leaving messy kisses everywhere he can reach. Spell broken, Ryan slams his hips back, groaning at the absolute fullness. It’s a sweet ache how big Shane is, not painful but always apparent. Ryan falls back against him, Shane gripping his hips tight as he fucks him and _fuck_ -

Ryan didn’t even notice Mariyam finally gave up, his fingers knuckle deep in death. They come out soaked in her blood, and Ryan’s so goddamned close. Shane’s filling him up perfectly- if he wasn’t staring at her corpse he’d be coming, a fresh burst of anger when he remembers she hit on his Shane too.

He wraps his hand around his dick, the blood initially making a smooth glide up and down. It turns tacky quick, friction just on the wrong side of painful. He’s wiping his hand on the sheets when Shane looks down. 

"Dammit,” Shane chokes out when he realizes what he’s done, his hand coming around to jerk his bloody cock. His palm’s slick with lube, glides up and down at the same speed he’s fucking him, and Ryan’s moaning his name over and over, mind empty but for pleasure. 

He comes, body giving in, telling Shane, “She’s dead.” 

Shane keens, bites his neck harshly, wet heat filling his ass. 

Ryan wants to collapse, curl up and go back to sleep. But that would definitely entail being caught and locked up. Shane slips out of him, come dripping down and dammit, he can’t be on the run like this. 

“Ten minutes, I need to shower,” Ryan says and Shane laughs. 

“Yeah, we need to get through two ferries without being stopped. Your hands would do that.” 

“That too,” Ryan agrees, getting up. Shane follows, and he looks at the scene again, without them. 

It isn’t the same type of beautiful as what Shane left in the mausoleum. This one feels less staged, more natural. Some specks of blood even reached the end tables- hitting the butterfly, flower petals, and diamonds. 

“Blood diamonds,” Ryan snorts. “Bartholomew isn’t coming with us?” 

Shane shrugs, “He wanted to be immortalized.”

Ryan laughs softly, “And what better way than in a murder scene?” 

“Mhmm,” Shane agrees, fiddling with something in his pocket. “You said you wanted a ring.” 

And Ryan doesn’t even need to see it, yanking Shane down to kiss him breathless. 

(The ring is from from their LA theft, a gorgeous swirl of clear and black diamonds.)

((The champagne has long gone warm, but it’s still delicious bubbly.))

.

One dream future might be dead, but Ryan’s more than willing to imagine a new one. Maybe another set of islands, or maybe they’ll hide away deep in the forest or mountains. Or maybe go back to America and taunt the police with new bodies, become infamous. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter- he has Shane.


End file.
